


Teacher Tell Me

by knaval



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Teachers, M/M, Multi, Other, Student Dean, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-18
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2017-12-15 08:26:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/847402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knaval/pseuds/knaval
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel doesn't expect much from the town he'd just moved to , Lawrence Kansas, to fill a teaching position. He didn't expect to fall out of a window, he didn't expect to meet a handsome young mechanic, and he especially didn't expect to see him again after that one night stand...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Extra Curriculars

**Author's Note:**

> yeah. so. write comments please i'm trying out a new writing style and i can't tell if it works all that well.  
> also this story will probably go on for ages if i get the motivation to continue it.

_Everywhere I go, there’s someone in a trench coat staring at me~_

Castiel Novak glanced warily at the auto-mechanic's, shrugging as he picked up his phone. Flipping open his old phone, the ringtone cut off as he answered it. 

“Hey, Castiel, man, I need a favor,” the tired and weak voice groaned into the phone on the other end.

“Chuck?” he asked, a note of concern coloring his voice, “What do you need?”

There were a few noises of shuffled papers and what sounded like Chuck stumbling down some stairs, punctuated by Chuck clearing his throat as he muddled about. While waiting for him to continue, Castiel glanced at his surroundings. He was waiting outside an auto-mechanic’s warehouse labeled “Singer’s Repairs” in faded, pealing letters at the Dead of night. It was chilly, prompting him to tug his coat around him further, though it offered little warmth at this point. October used to be his favorite month; now it was too windy, dark too early, and though the skies and stars were clear and cold and the wind briskly bit his cheeks (something he used to take comfort in) it only made him feel more irritable, old, and alone.

“I just wanted to check on you, and make sure you’re all settled in alright. After all, you are replacing me,” Chuck chattered on, somewhat nervously as he often did, even among friends. “I’m sorry for the inconveniences I must be causing you.”

Too polite to list all the inconveniences Chuck had caused him in the past -and was causing him now- Castiel simply overlooked the statement with, “I hope you feel better soon.”

“I doubt it,” Chuck sighed, knocking something over in the background. “Looks like I’ll be in the hospital longer than the semester. I might as well as for maternity leave.”

“It sounds like you’ll have plenty of time to catch up on your writing, ghost-busters or whatever it was,” Castiel muttered, distracted as he looked around for anyone at the garage. He could hear voices in the back among the clatter of tools and engines, against a backdrop of the greatest hits of mullet rock. Yet the garage seemed empty. He rapped on the door with a fist, unsure whether it would be loud enough for anyone to actually hear him.

“Yeah, and then stay in longer for carpal tunnel,” Chuck was saying when Castiel tuned back into their conversation. “Look, I left behind my grade books for you, and they’re only a month into school, so parent teacher conferences are coming up. I’ll send you the curriculum and anything else you need, alright?”

Castiel grunted. He wasn’t really listening, and he didn’t really care. His mind was occupied with other things, and the fact that he couldn’t find anyone in Singer’s Repair Garage to ask about fixing his car was only making him more petulant with each increasing second.

The move to Kansas had not been kind to him thus-far. He was starting to dislike the whole state, of which so far he had only seen the bleak grass-less edges of the junkyard and highway. Was there no greenery or un-parched plant in this whole god-forsaken town? And to top it all off, his car had been wrecked. During a fiasco the day he first moved into his apartment, Castiel had fallen out of a window, onto his car, damaging it rather badly. He didn’t tell Chuck about that. 

“You sound pissed. You miss a meal or something?” 

Castiel refrained from telling him about the car. He refrained from telling him how much he hated moving to a place that made him feel even more alone than the last place.

“Listen man, I wanna thank you.”

“What for?” Castiel snapped, a little caught off guard. People didn’t thank him; they just asked him for favors. 

“For taking over my job at such short notice. I know you didn’t need to ditch your internship to take this teaching position, and coming all the way out here was kind of much for me to ask for. I’ll make it up to you somehow. It means the world to me.”

Castiel grunted, teeth gnawing at the inside of his mouth. “Alright, what else do you want?”

“There’s this kid in one of my, well, now your classes. He’s on the verge of dropping out. He’s a bright kid, I can tell, but he doesn’t let anybody in. He doesn’t do sports, extra curriculars, nothing. This kid’s grades are just about as far down as they get. Ninth circle of hell, next door to Satan’s personal litterbox and all that jazz. If you could do me a favor and somehow manage to raise him from perdition that would be so awesome.”

“Why.”

Chuck sighed; exasperated at Castiel’s obvious lack of empathy, even though he knew he was already asking a lot from him. “He’s a good kid. And, if you don’t want to do this for him, or for me, do it for his brother. I need this kid to set a good example for him – you know how it is with brothers, right?”  
Castiel nodded, thinking back to his own brothers. He often wondered if Michael had been there a little more for Luc, would Luc still be in jail?

Chuck rambled on a few more minutes, hanging up without Castiel’s realization. He closed the phone, shaking himself. He was hating himself for taking this job, it was like taking a trip to hell after spending years in heaven’s climates. He muttered a thing or two about Chuck’s behavior in various dead languages – what he’d been studying at his internship before he agreed to come to a small town in the middle of nowhere Kansas to teach history. To be fair, he’d studied a fair amount of history. But he didn’t feel like fair. 

“Hey there,” a deep, mellifluous voice caught him off guard from behind, startling him back into the moment. He nearly dropped his phone, spinning around to view the assailant, whose appearance knocked him off guard more than his voice. He wasn’t sure what it was that caught him and kept him from falling to the ground, the stranger’s green gaze framed by soft eyes or the strong arms that helped him back up before he even touched the ground. 

“Sorry man, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he was saying, and Castiel realized he was still staring wide-eyed and timidly at him. He felt the stranger’s firm grip leave from around his arm and his hip, and suddenly his feet felt heavy on the ground again. He stepped back as he recovered his voice, putting his phone back into his pocket, stealing the opportunity to take in his assailant and savior’s full appearance.  
The young man was about his height, possibly taller. His form was full and his face was fair, jaw carved with stubble and high cheekbones. His eyes were soft and breathtaking, making Castiel’s cheeks redden when he stared too long. He immediately averted his stare, only to glaze over the sweat and grease staining the young man’s flushed skin and obscuring constellations of freckles –and although he wasn’t much of a stargazer, Castiel had the urge to map them out and name each of them after various Greek myths. His gaze then lingered over his hips and bowlegs, before he forced himself to stare at the ground. Eye contact may have been too much to ask for at the moment.

“Um, yes, thank you. I uh, um-” he stuttered a moment, looking up into the young man’s eyes as he leaned closer to him, and he could smell the musky scent of physical exertion, petroleum and leather. “I’m here about a car.”

The young man laughed, a wonderful sound that made his lips curve into a delicious smile and Castiel wondered what it would taste like before chastising himself for his lack of self-control. He had to be twice the young man’s age at least. He was nearly forty; the man couldn’t have been more than twenty. And he still felt like a fifth grade girl messing up talking to the cute older-grade boy.

“Yeah, that’s what most people come here for,” he answered, still grinning. “Is it a specific car?”

Castiel nodded, and gestured to the car out on the dirt drive. “My car, I uh, it’s been through a fair amount of damage and I wanted to make sure everything’s alright with it.”

The man nodded, listening as he followed him to the car. Once there, he barely said a word, only looking under the severely dented hood.

“It looks like the damage is mostly cosmetic, but I’d still check her engine to make sure nothing got knocked loose,” he said after a while, turning around to catch Castiel staring at him for the second or third time. Castiel felt the embarrassment creep over his face. He wanted to protest to whatever conscience making him feel so guilty about it that it wasn’t his fault, he couldn’t help but stare when the attractive mechanic leaned over the engine, the way it made his shirt pull taut over his back and the pose accentuated the curve of his ass-

“If you wanna leave her overnight with a number and I can call you and give you an estimate,” he was saying, and Castiel nodded, scribbling his number down. He handed it to the man without question, who took it from him and gazed at the number a little longer than he migth’ve thought nessesary. 

“Care to add a name to that number?”

“Castiel,” He blurted out a little too quickly, adding, “Novak.”

“Castiel Novak,” the young man grinned at him again. “My name’s Dean. I haven’t seen you around this small town before, have I?”

He shook his head. “I’m afraid not, I moved here just last week. I got a job here on rather short notice.”

“Really?” Dean raised his eyebrows, leaning towards the car. “And you left everything to come here?”

He shrugged. “Left a bunch of stuff behind.”

“Bad break up?”

He green eyes are mesmerizing. Castiel can’t stop staring and he hates the fact he’s probably blushing. He doesn’t bother to tell him “no”, because it’s been several years since he last had a relationship. But his mind is doing that thing it feels so good to do, to stare at someone he just glanced at and imagine what life might possibly look like alongside him. He promised himself he wouldn’t fantasize like this anymore but the recent stress is changing his mind for him. He swallows, glancing at Dean’s lips. He wonders what it would be like to hear his name on those lips in the mornings between kisses and sips of coffee.

“Just a new start,” he manages to say, bringing his eyes to meet Dean’s briefly before tearing them away again. He decides if he daydreams on his feet, there’s nothing wrong as long as he keeps it to himself. 

There was something extra in Dean’s grin.

Castiel filled out a form for his car, and when he finished he saw Dean putting on a leather jacket, readying to leave. He was locking the office door behind him when Castiel handed him the paper, which he slipped under the door.

“You have someone coming to pick you up?” Dean asked, grinning at him as he dug through his pockets.

Castiel glanced out at the fresh expanse of the seamless night sky, deep blue around its edges. At his last address in the city, he had never seen so many stars at night. In the city, he never had to walk too far after getting his car fixed. 

“I didn’t think too far ahead,” he admitted, the blush warming his cheeks as it returned probably for the umpteenth time that evening. He hoped it would be too dark for his the beautiful mechanic to see that.  
Dean fidgeted with his keys for a moment, the bits of metal chinking together in his hands. “Need a lift?” he offered, and Castiel was already following him to his car before he answered.

“That’d be nice.”

“Where to?” Dean asked, opening the passenger-side door for him. 

Castiel took in another breath, mentally chastising himself for what he was about to do. But he was allowed to have fun every once in a while. Especially since the young man couldn’t stop smiling at him.

“You wouldn’t happen to know a good place for a burger, would you?”

Dean grinned at him, and Castiel thought he saw him wink as he got into the car. “Damn right I do.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THERE IS A CHAPTER SKIP BECAUSE THERE IS AN IN-BETWEEN CHAPTER BUT IM TOO LAZY TO FINISH IT because motivation and fandom's kinda ruined the ship for me

By Monday morning his car still wasn’t fixed. He walked to the school, and emptied his shoes of the rocks at least twice on the way.  
Among his coworkers, he particularly befriended a man called Gabriel, many of the students called “the trickster” as every test he made was composed almost entirely of trick questions, and sometimes a few straightforward questions to throw them off. Sometimes he gave Scranton tests entirely answered “c”, other tests mostly “c” with a few “b”s thrown in.   
According to Gabe, his favorite student was in the lower grades, a boy named Sam, who he loved to tease about his brother getting into trouble, telling him elaborate stories of all the ways he could get his brother into detention or expelled. Sam didn’t seem to enjoy it.  
“He’s a smart kid, but a real moron when his brother gets involved. He loves him too much,” Gabe was saying as they left the teacher’s break room for what felt like the first time in eons. In reality they had to attend meetings all through Sunday (which he was still mildly hung-over during) as well as absurdly early Monday morning. Cas stifled another yawn, half nodding in agreement. He had made the mistake of asking about which students to watch out for, and somehow ended up listening to a review of pretty much every student that ever ended up in detention with Gabe, and all the absurd methods of punishment he carried out. Apparently all of the highlight reel was off the official record.  
“Dean’s a real troublemaker, but he’s not in any of my classes this year. Which is too bad; I never did find a way to keep him in line,” Gabe sighed, but without regret.   
“I suppose there’s always next year, isn’t there?”  
“Nope, next year he’ll be out of our hair, well, yours,” Gabe reached up and patted Castiel’s hair. “Have you ever tried combing this lot? Seriously man, your bed-head is worse than some of the students’.”  
Castiel swatted his hand away, the first bell cutting off his response. The more punctual students were already shuffling out of the commons and away from their lockers to the classrooms, while a few stayed, determined to be late, or at least not arrive a second before they needed to. The range of maturity was astounding – some students looked like they escaped the middle school, while others appeared as if they ought to have graduated a couple years ago. Many were still stuck in the transformation, with roves of acne over their noses, and Castiel cringed as he remembered being stuck in ‘miracle’ of puberty. He found being surrounded by it again to be somewhat nauseating.   
“Adam’s still in the ‘cage’,” Gabe continued, pulling Castiel in the direction of the classroom. The “cage” was what the students affectionately called Room 103, where afterschool and lunch detentions were held.  
“What did he do?”  
“Nothing, I’m only interrogating him. He knows who flooded the boys’ bathrooms last week, and I suspect the Winchesters were involved, -whenever something happens, it’s always them. But I have no proof unless he says something.”  
Castiel shrugged, no longer listening. He didn’t really care about this “Adam”, he needed to focus on that day’s lesson plan for three different classes, and thank god two of them were mostly the same.   
Gabe pushed him off down a separate hallway, and he continued to his room, 409, where he had already put most of his papers. First class of the day, Intro to Philosophy. When he gets to the classroom, a little late, it’s already filled with most of the students. He went over the seating chart silently, applying faces to the names, determined to have them memorized before the morning announcements went over the loudspeaker.   
But the faces weren’t sticking. One or two stayed, but upon referencing the chart, he had those mixed up as well. Try as he might, his head kept finding away to sit on his desk, his eyes kept closing and that one face from last night kept popping up in his mind. He was beginning to wish that he had accepted that coffee from Gabe, triple espresso or whatever it was. Maybe then he would have had an easier time concentrating. The excess amounts of whipped cream and cinnamon on top should have been enticing enough.  
The morning announcements came on, and while his students listened idly, standing to recite the pledge to the flag, he stared out the window, watching a cluster of orange leaves disembark from a tree into the wind. The grass, already yellowing from the cold, was nearly covered in a sheet of vibrant leaves, fallen from a tree that seemed to have an endless supply of the leaves. God, there was just so much orange. He made a mental note to thank Chuck for giving him the classroom with the view.   
It looked like everything about the autumn that Gabe’s classroom was imitating. Gabe had decorated his classroom with every cheesy sticker he could find, and pinned every autumn themed poster with googly eyes to cover every inch of the boring white walls. If that wasn’t enough, Gabe, came to work in colorful knit scarves it wasn’t cold enough for yet, handing out pumpkin lattes and whatnot to the rest of the staff and lighting scented candles in the teacher’s break room. It was maddening, and bad enough that one of the English teachers, Balthazar, indulged in his autumn fantasy. Castiel needed the fresh, cold air. Autumn was one of his favorite seasons, and he preferred the authentic version to Gabe’s pumpkin-flavored-everything-paradise.  
Contemplating the outdoors and its gentle, calming beauty soothed his mind for a mere moment, as he decided he would not blame any student for preferring to gaze outside to his monotonous lessons.  
The second bell rang. Whoever came in next was officially late. He picked up the roster, ready to check off whoever wasn’t already in their seat. Meg Masters, Jo Harvelle, Daniel Elkins, Dean Winchester…  
That name. He took off his reading glasses and pinched the junction between his forehead and nose, rubbing his eyes. It followed him everywhere now, like a lost puppy he didn’t want to take home, especially considering that he already had taken a ‘Dean’ home. How was he to concentrate on giving the day’s lesson when he was haunted by the inappropriately erotic memories of the previous Friday night? He knew he’d be popping more khaki tents than the occasional unfortunate student, and on his first day too. God, it was high school all over again, and he hadn’t even figured it out the first time around.   
Jo Harvelle wandered in with a late pass, and told him Daniel Elkins had transferred to a school in Colorado. She took her seat in the middle of the classroom, and despite being a little late, she seemed like a good kid. Meg Masters, on the other hand, came in with her phone in hand and headphones around her neck, broadcasting the most bizarre of news reports, in which the broadcaster slandered a town called ‘Desert Bluffs’ while he tried to tell her that she needed to leave her phone on his desk or turn it off. She smirked haughtily at him, leaning close enough that he could smell her from his seat. She smelled like pumpkin candles and among other things, vaguely like trouble. He leaned away, but she continued to smile  
There were footsteps in the hallway, and voices too, drifting in through the cracked door. He stood up, fixing his glasses back into place on his meanest glare. He didn’t intend to be a cruel teacher, but there would be no place for tardiness in his classroom. He didn’t know what Chuck’s classroom had been like, but he would not allow his to become a den of texting, decadence, or laziness. Which was probably what Chuck would let happen in his absence.   
The door pushed open and he turned around to face the tardy student, and though he opened his mouth, no sound came out when he met his face.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AGAIN, THERE IS A CHAPTER SKIP BECAUSE THERE IS AN IN-BETWEEN CHAPTER BUT IM TOO LAZY TO FINISH IT because motivation and fandom's kinda ruined the ship for me

Dean looks like he saw a ghost, but Sam’s sure that if he ever actually saw a ghost he’d still be pretty chill about it –nothing scares his brother. Not even the bullies that were so much bigger than him, not even the pink slips that teachers so often waved in front of him.   
But when he left Sam to find his own first period class, Sam watched his older brother stop in his tracks, and the color leave his face as his eyes widened.  
\- - - - - - - -  
The green eyes were unmistakably his. So was the chin. And the cheekbones, jaw line, the sinewy figure hidden underneath the old leather jacket that smelled like engine grease and sex. Yet that face that had looked so mature and adult not two nights ago was suddenly changed, so much younger in the surroundings.   
“You,” Castiel began, unable to utter the name that had been so heavily haunting his mind. His jaw felt heavy with a hundred accusations, ready to spit acid at the bilious anger rising low in his throat. How could this mere boy take home men twice his age, when he wasn’t even out of school yet? Had he no shame or idea of the scandals that could arise from such actions? Other venomous thoughts rose, but he bit them back, twisting his lips into a smile that would befit even the mildest of kindergarten teachers.   
He was a professional, after all.   
“…Are late for my class, young man,” he continued sternly, not allowing the smile to slide from his face. “Do you have a note?”  
Dean, who was still staring at him in shock, blinked quickly a few times, Friday’s flirtatious smiles long gone. He shook his head briefly.   
Castiel glanced to the rest of the classroom, which had conveniently put their texting and tweeting away to watch the current scandal unfold. A few sat with their phones at the ready to capture the event, ears waiting to hear anything that might be good gossip material.   
If only he could keep their attention this rapt during his lessons.   
Castiel picked up a yardstick from against the blackboard, and tapped it experimentally in his hand. Glancing between Dean and the rest of the class, he began an impromptu history lesson.  
“In the 1800s, it was customary for a teacher to smack their students with a branch or a ruler…a spanking of sorts,” he said, leaving Dean’s eyes and glancing around to the rest of his class for the first lesson. Venturing a few steps away from Dean to the blackboard, he flashed a smile at the rest of them, garnering a few laughs as he made a motion with the yardstick. He hadn’t noticed Dean take another step until he was sauntering towards him again, a leer of a grin tugging at one corner of his mount. Castiel felt his composition falter for a second as his eyes darted to those lips, watching the smallest of movements intently. The words Dean said were almost enough to unhinge him there.   
“You gonna spank me, teach?” He said, his eyes locking onto Castiel’s, the cocky attitude returning, seeping into his voice, which was unfairly low and husky, almost a whisper, bordering on enticing.   
Castiel swallowed.  
“No. Such methods have been outlawed since the 1960’s,” He blurted out quickly, forcing himself to glance at his other students again. He returned Dean’s… invitation with an equally low and dangerous tone, “…But I will give you detention if you’re late again.”  
He held Dean’s gaze a second longer, until Dean’s cheeks pinked and he glanced away.  
“Of course, they didn’t have students with phones in the 1960’s,” He tapped the yardstick in his hands playfully as he addressed the rest of the classroom. “So put them away or I might be forced to reinstate the tradition.”  
He wrote his name out on the board in his most legible scribble he could manage, along with the morning’s assignment. Dusting the chalk off his hands, he said to his class, “Well, good morning, all. I’m sure you’ve heard what happened to your previous teacher…or you haven’t. I trust none of you had anything to do with it personally. I don’t really know the particulars, but I’ll be subbing for Mr. Shurley until he’s feeling good enough to come back. Which means I get to play god with your grades until then.”  
That last bit did not come off as funny as he would have hoped. Meg cracked a smile at his social ineptitude.   
When he returned to his desk, he noticed Dean hadn’t sat in the back, but at the very head of the classroom, the desk exactly in front of his. Chuck had no doubt moved him there to keep a better eye on him during tests.   
Chuck be damned.   
He immediately dashed any thoughts he had earlier of seeking out a second encounter at the auto-body shop.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BEFORE YOU ASK HERE IS PART OF THE MISSING CHAPTER I'M NOT WILLING TO FINISH

THIS IS PART OF THE MISSING CHAPTER 

“Did it hurt?” dean was smiling up at him, a softness playing in his watching eyes.   
Castiel started, suddenly overly self-conscious of the large bruise covering most of his back – if he did manage to extend the young man’s generosity to his bed, Dean would undoubtedly see it and inquire. He didn’t know how Dean had noticed that he had been unnaturally attentive to not touching or overextending his shoulders, but that Dean was observant enough to tell was surprising in the least.   
He opened his mouth, confused. He reached a hand around his chest to gingerly touch his shoulder, where the bruise started and smarted. Dean flashed another charming grin.   
“When you fell--”  
“It did, it hurt a lot. Not initially, but afterwards it’s been rather painful.”  
The young man looked at a loss for words. He frowned and blinked a few times. “When you fell…?”  
“-I fell out of a window onto the hood of my car. That’s how it got so banged up--”  
Dean held his eyes for a second, before breaking out into another curious smile. Under a burst of laughter he rubbed his eyes, burying his face in his hands.   
Castiel reddened, feeling oddly like he was missing whatever was so funny. He glanced at his hands, embarrassment creeping up on his neck.   
By the time Dean regained himself, he managed around another mellifluous laugh, “It’s--. It’s a pick-up line. ‘Did it hurt when you fell out of heaven’--” and there Dean dissolved into another fit of giggles. “S-sorry. I had no idea you actually fell--”  
Oh. Castiel shuffled uncomfortably, not feeling much better about himself. Of course it was a pick up line, it was stupid to think that Dean could have known about that, it was a pick up line—  
Oh. Oh. He turned to Dean with his newfound realization. The young man was definitely offering for just the one night with that cheesy line.   
He took another look at Dean and his eyes fell to his mouth. Castiel licked his lips subconsciously. His fingers tightened their grip on the counter, and with the other hand he quickly downed the rest of his drink. He could feel the heat on his neck, suddenly very aware of his presence in the room and his proximity to Dean, worried now of the effects of the smallest gestures, now that someone was showing interest in him. He was almost sure Dean would turn away from him because he was sweating too much or because he was staring too much and excessive staring isn’t flirting and he’s sure his face looks terrified and all he can see it Dean’s gently green gaze never leaving his. And Dean’s soft smile brushing against his own terrified pout. – and whether it was the alcohol finally affecting him, or Dean’s natural effect on people, his hands somehow unclenched and he found himself opening up to Dean, parting his lips. Reluctant hands reached up to touch Dean’s face, to brush his fingers along that strong jaw line, to caress the hollow of where his cheekbones drew up, to hold his face against the palm of his hand, to feel the scratch of stubble against his skin, and then to reach further up, to trace the shape of his scalp and weave his fingers through his hair.   
He caught Dean’s lower lip between both of his, slowing their tryst to a near stop.   
Castiel opened his eyes only just, to see Dean gazing back at him through half lidded-eyes. He could feel Dean’s young mouth pull into a smile against his lips.   
He leaned forward to lay his forehead against Dean’s, brushing their noses together. It may have just been the lighting, but he thought Dean’s eyes looked almost predatory, and they reminded him again of that horrible pick up line. Some intoxicated part of his mind which thought it was witty


End file.
